Miles to go Before I Sleep
by LemonStar
Summary: ..Beth Greene.. She isn't mad at them. How can she be? She got shot in the head and who would ever think a person could survive that? She can't be mad at them for that; for leaving her behind.
1. Chapter 1

…

She isn't mad at them. How can she be? She got shot in the head and who would ever think a person could survive that? She can't be mad at them for that; for leaving her behind.

Some days, she thinks about going to go find them but she never does. She likes to think that they had gone to take Noah home but she doesn't go after them because what if she gets all the way there and they're not there? Where would she go next? It's a big world out there and the less of it she can travel by herself, the better.

When she wakes up in the hospital for the second time, she thinks she's dead and she's in hell and this is her eternity. But she quickly learns that she's actually alive and this time is drastically drastic. Everyone seems either scared or nervous around her – even the police – and in the two weeks it takes for her to recover, she is given back her things and she walks out of there on her own two feet without being chased. One of the police even give her a knife. They offer a gun but she shakes her head, preferring the knife. It's quiet and she doesn't have to worry about bullets.

At first, her only goal is to get out of Atlanta alive. And once she does that, she stops to think of where she should go. And for one brief moment, she actually considers finding her way back to that funeral home before she reminds herself that the funeral home had just been one big trap in the first place and even if it wasn't, she doesn't think she can go back there and sit in that kitchen or play that piano without thinking of him. And she's trying so hard to not think of any of them.

Especially him.

But thinking about him is always inevitable because as she begins making her way back towards the farm – _home_ – his voice is constantly in her head. She identifies every track she sees, she looks at the signs in the dirt and on the passing leaves. She finds water and which berries are safe for her to eat. She can block everyone else from her mind except him. She can't escape him even if that's what she wants.

She knows it's not.

She kills walkers as they come and she sleeps in trees or in a house she passes if she thinks it looks secure enough. She follows the sun and knows she's headed in the right direction but when she comes upon that pileup on the highway that she hasn't seen for so long, she almost falls to her knees with relief.

"We made it," she whispers and she hasn't spoken out loud in so long and she's not surprise that when she finally does, it's to him.

She forages the tangle of vehicles for any supplies that might be useful and then, taking a series of deep breaths, she begins heading into the trees towards the farm. She doesn't even know if the farm is still there; if the herd is still there but she remembers that if it's gone, there's the church nearby that Glenn had mentioned once when he had been telling them about their search for Sophia. The church at the time had been left alone and pretty isolated and she can only hope that it's still like that. And if it's not, she'll think of something else.

But first things first. She has to see the farm.

She steps through the trees slowly and the first thing she sees is the blackened remnants of what was once one of theirs barns that had burned _that night_ but she never thinks about that night anymore and even though she's back now, she's not going to start again now.

Her eyes scan the fields and she sees a few walkers milling around. Nothing like the herd that had been here before and she can take these out easily enough.

And that's what she does.

She slithers through the tall grass, going to each one as they just stand there, swaying in the wind like their own blades of grass, and they don't see her and when they do, it's too late. She's silent. She doesn't hesitate or stop until every walker she sees on her family's farm has her knife plunged into their skulls.

Only then, once she is completely alone again, does she finally look to the house. And it's still there. It's still standing. The white paint having faded but who cares about that because _it's still standing_. No one – or nothing – has touched it. And suddenly, she's running towards it, the pack on her back bouncing up and down as she runs, her eyes flooding with tears.

Home. She's finally home.

…

The farm is as it always is. Quiet and isolated and she sometimes doesn't see a walker for days. The wells are still letting her having running water in the house but the generator is broken and she's not equipped to fix it. She can do a lot of things now that she hadn't used to be able to but fixing machines still isn't one of them.

If he was here, he'd get it fixed in no time and she'd have lights and heat inside but people can live without those two things and she doesn't miss something she doesn't even really need. There is a fireplace for her to use and heat her water over and keep her warm on those really chill nights.

She used to can with her mama every fall – another lifetime ago – and some of those jars were still in the basement. And her daddy, the sort to always be prepared, had fully stocked their cabinets and pantry with nonperishable and canned goods that were still good to eat. But even though she has so much food, she still rations it because she doesn't know what will happen and she can't be too careful.

Only an idiot is careful anymore.

In the shed, she finds a crate of her daddy's seeds and she gets right to work. She plans it out and then starts tilling and digging. She plants the seeds in neat, straight rows. Corn, green beans, tomatoes and cucumbers. She surrounds the whole thing with some chicken wire she also finds in the shed because walkers aren't the only pests out there who she wants to kill if they get into her crops. Inside the kitchen, in little pots, she grows basil and mint and every day, she tends to her vegetables and hums to herself and she thinks about how proud her daddy would be of her.

She doesn't talk anymore. She has no one to talk to anyway. But she still sings.

She still doesn't think about the others. She sees no point to it. She doesn't know where they are or if they're alive and all she can care about right now is that she's alive. _She made it_. And she's home again, sleeping in her own bed, and tending to her vegetable garden in the backyard and she's alone and the farm is safe for this day and that's all she cares about.

But sometimes, when she's humming or out in the woods, tracking down the possibility of having fresh meat, he enters her mind and he stays there for days. She thinks of the funeral home and songs on the piano and candlelight and _oh_ and the way he had carried her into the kitchen, so proud of himself for the way he had set their breakfast up for her.

She thinks of all of these things and she doubts she'll ever forget and all she can do is dig in the dirt and wonder if he still remembers those things, too.

…

It's pointless, she knows, but she dusts every few days. She keeps the house clean because it's her mama's house and she took such pride in a clean house. She visits her grave, too. Hers and Shawn's and Dale's and Sophia's and there are wildflowers that grow in some of the fields and she picks some to lay small bouquets on each. She gathers sticks and makes four crosses and marks each one.

She doesn't know what had happened but she knows that something must have happened for her family not to bury her. There had to be a reason she woke up in that car's truck. She's grateful – of course, now – that she hadn't had to dig her way out of the earth but why hadn't they buried her? As far as they knew, she had died.

She doesn't want to think about it though. She doesn't want to think that maybe, they just hadn't cared that much because even if that's the truth, she knows, in her heart, that _he_ cares and somewhere along the way, he has become really the only one she cares about in return.

…

The summer passes and she harvests every vegetable she has produced in the garden and she spends her days, picking and canning and preparing herself for winter. She can't remember the last time she saw a walker but she still walks the farm every day, checking the fences and making sure that everything is secure. This farm is hers and she's not running from it again.

She thinks of winter coming. She's not afraid of starving and she has been chopping wood every day so she has plenty for the fire. And every time she's in the bathroom, she looks at her reflection in the mirror and looks at the scars on her face. If she can survive everything that she's already been through, she can survive a winter in her home; on her farm. She made it and she's not going out that easily.

…

It's the first snow of the winter – light flurries that dance in the wind and don't seem to ever actually land on the ground. She's in the living room, adding another log to the fire when she hears it. She lifts her head and listens to it getting closer but she can't believe it at first. She's not even sure she remembers what it sounds like.

But she stands up and looks out the window and the sound's only getting closer.

She doesn't understand it though. It can't be… why would he be here? Why would he come here, after all this time? He doesn't even know she's alive. It can't be him. There must be others left alive who ride.

She keeps a gun though she never uses it and she pulls it out now, slowly approaching the door. The motorcycle is almost to the front door and it looks like they're alone. Still, she grips the gun tightly, ready to pull the trigger. But when the rider is close enough and she can see clearly who it is, the gun falls from her hand and lands with a heavy thud on the wooden porch.

And he is staring right at her. He is able to stop the bike and he climbs off, his eyes never leaving her. Her own eyes take in every detail. His hair is longer, his crossbow is still on his back and the bike is new.

She wonders what he sees when he looks at her. Is she still just another dead girl to him? She has to be. Because the last time he saw her, he thought that's what she was.

For the first time in months, she opens her mouth and speaks. Not sing but actually speaks and she wonders if she even remembers how to speak. She wants to ask him what he's doing here. She wants to know how he knew to come here after all this time but those might be too many words for now.

"Hi," Beth Greene finally says with a small smile.

And Daryl Dixon finally takes a step towards her before he falls to his knees.

…


	2. Chapter 2

**This was intended to be a one-shot but I had an idea for a second part and I wanted to write it down.**

* * *

…

He follows her inside the house.

She knows he wants to ask her all sorts of things because she has a thousand questions for him, too, but for the moment, they're both quiet. She feels his eyes on her, never taking them off of her, and she knows he still doesn't quite believe that she's there, as she walks to a corner in the living room and drags out a Rubbermaid container for him to see.

"There's clothes in here. I'm not sure who they belonged to," she says. They had all just moved into the farmhouse before _that_ night and all of their things are still there, having run out of here with nothing but the clothes on their backs. "I have running water from the wells but I'm glad you're here. I don't know how to fix the generator," she says and she's aware that she is acting as if both of them being there is the most natural thing in the world but she's not too sure how to otherwise act because she never thought he would be here again with her.

He's standing there, just staring at her and not saying anything, so she stands there and let him look his fill. She knows she looks different. And it's not just because of the scars on her face now. Her hair is longer and she's the skinniest she's ever been.

And as he looks at her, she looks at him. His hair is longer, too, and he's not as skinny as he once was. Still lean but more muscled. Wherever he's been, he's been able to eat, and she hopes wherever he's been, their family has been with him.

"You thirsty?" She finally breaks the silence.

He doesn't say anything. He just gives his head a nod and she heads towards the kitchen, very aware of his presence behind her.

The kitchen table and island counter are covered with the mason jars she has filled with her vegetables in preparation of the winter and the air smells of mint from the plants on the window sill. He stands there and looks at it all and she goes to the sink to get him a glass of water.

"Thanks," he finally speaks in that same gruff voice of his as she hands it to him.

"It's almost time for dinner but I have a couple of things I need to do before that. With the sun setting so early now, it doesn't give me that much time to work outside," she says and he still hasn't taken a sip of water.

He won't stop looking at her.

"What do you need to do?" He asks.

"I was able to fix all of the fences. I do a perimeter check in the morning and another before the sun sets," she tells him and he nods.

He finally gulps the glass of water in just a few gulps. "I'll come with you."

She's not surprised. She's been expecting him to come with her.

They walk side by side, neither talking, and yet, she doesn't feel tense or uncomfortable. She has developed a level of comfort with him in the time together when it was just the two of them and after everything, that is still between them. She wonders if he still feels comfortable around her, too.

His crossbow is in his hands and her fingers are always curled around the hilt of her knife as she pulls on the fences, every few feet, making sure they're still secure.

"'s quiet," he notes.

She nods. "Have only had to kill six or seven walkers since being back here."

And that's the opening he's clearly been waiting for.

"How long you been back here?"

She's quiet, thinking that over. She then shrugs. "A while," she answers and she thinks it might be the wrong answer because if she's been here a while, why the hell didn't she go and try to find them? But he doesn't ask that. He doesn't say anything and she doesn't feel the need to explain. Instead, he needs to explain something. She turns her head to him. "Why did you come back here?" She asks.

She expects him to ignore her and he does for a few minutes.

His eyes go back to scanning their surroundings, always sharp and on the lookout, and she goes back to checking carefully over the fences. Once they check the last of the back fences, they begin walking back towards the house.

"Found ourselves a safe zone," he finally speaks. "But I never felt comfortable there. Never saw myself wantin' to stay for too long but I couldn't think of where else to go." He stops himself after that and she knows there's more to the story but he's not going to tell her and she's not going to ask.

They return to the house and she leads him to the little shed where the generator is.

"There's still gas in it. I just can't get the darn thing to start," she says.

He kneels in front of it and looks over it for a few moments. He tries to start it himself and just as it does with her, it sputters but never catches on. The sun is almost completely gone and they can't see much in front of them anymore.

"Think some of the screws might be rusted through," he decide as they begin walking back the rest of the way to the house. "Might be able to find some more 'round here. You gone to the other farms 'round here yet?"

She shakes her head. "Everything I needed was here."

 _Except you_. It is said silently in her head but she wonders if he can hear it anyway.

…

The first few days he's there, she expects him to leave just as suddenly as he arrived but each morning, she comes downstairs, washed and dressed and ready for another day and he's always still there. Even with the empty bedrooms upstairs, he likes to sleep on the couch down here. She tells him that he doesn't have to, that she's been here for months without doing it, but he insists still on keeping watch.

The days are getting colder and he spends his days, chopping wood for the fire and hunting in the woods for any game – and making sure it's clear of walkers. She walks the fences every day and keeps buckets of water in the house that can be warmed over the fire because the water in the wells might freeze up and stop running.

He's like her and just because they have food doesn't mean they have to eat all of it. They eat breakfast and dinner and she rations out their food so they have more than enough to get them through these cold months.

Most days, she goes hunting with him and most days, he walks the fences with her.

They don't say it but they don't like to have the other out of their sight for too long.

…

He tells her one night over a dinner of green beans and rice that Maggie's going to have a baby and she instantly blooms into a smile. Not only is her sister going to have a baby and she's going to be an aunt but because Maggie has found a place safe enough to live where having a baby is possible.

But then her smile fades. She's happy for her sister but she's not going to go find her. She's staying right here. Maggie doesn't need her to be there. Maggie thinks she's dead and she's going to keep thinking that. Maggie has enough in her life with a husband and a baby coming to worry about that shouldn't include the sister she thought was dead with scars all over her face.

Did he tell her that so she would go to whatever safe zone he had come from?

She's frowning now and she doesn't talk to him for the rest of the night.

In the morning, she finds him on the front porch, skinning and cleaning a raccoon. Without a word, she comes and sits down beside him. He glances up at her for a moment but then his eyes go back down to his kill.

"I'm not going with you when you leave," she says and has been thinking about this all night. She's glad their family is safe and alive but she doesn't want to see them. She can't explain it but she thinks that if anyone would understand, it would be him.

He pauses his knife and lifts his eyes again to her. "Wasn' thinkin' I was leavin' anywhere," he says. "You wan' me to go?"

She immediately shakes her head quickly and the word flies from her mouth before she can stop it – not that she would stop it even if she could.

"Never."

…

She finally gathers the courage to go through the other bedrooms. Rooms that used to be Shawn's and Maggie's and her parents'. Shawn was about the same height but he was skinnier but she finds him a few shirts that he's able to fit into. He fits better into her daddy's shirts but once he finds out who they once belonged to, he's not too willing to wear those and she supposes she doesn't blame him.

Maggie was always so much taller than her but that doesn't matter when it's freezing outside and she needs to wear some extra layers.

They never are able to fix the generator but that's okay because they have the fireplace and he's a little nervous anyway about lights being turned on, worried that it will alert to others that someone is living here. She hadn't thought of that but she swiftly agrees and they spend their winter, living by candlelight.

There isn't much to do in the frigid months. Walkers move so much slower or not at all – spending days just standing in one place as if they have no other inclination to do anything else. They still walk the perimeter of the farm every morning and every evening though. She just can't remember the last time she had to kill an intruding walker. They don't relax though. They're not stupid and they've never forgotten what seems to always happen if they do allow themselves to get too comfortable.

One night, after their dinner of roasted rabbit and canned beets – a regular feast he tells her with a little smile and her cheeks blush – they spend their evening as they always do now. In front of the fire. She no longer sleeps upstairs and instead, sleeps on the floor in front of the fire amongst a sea of blankets and pillows and wakes up in the mornings to him sleeping next to her.

He has reached a point where he is able to get himself able to sleep without his shoes on and he stretches his legs out now, feet towards the fire, warming them up, and she sits beside him, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms hugging them tight. She looks into the flames and she begins to sing softly and one song leads into another and when she falls quiet again, it's only because she's yawning.

"I ran all night," he says suddenly, quietly, and her eyes turn to him but he's staring straight ahead into the flames. "I ran after you and that car all night until I couldn' run anymore."

"I know you did," she tells him softly. She never doubted for a second that he tried to get her back. "When I woke up in that hospital…" she trails off and she feels him tense beside her. "I knew you would come for me," she whispers and he finally turns his head to look at her. He stares at her for a long moment and she can't do anything except stare back. She then gives him a little smile. "I'm really glad you're here," she then tells him and her cheeks are warm and her chest feels tight.

He stares at her for another moment and she leans in a little closer to him as if she's cold and needs his body heat even though she can feel sweat at the base of her spine.

"Me, too," he then says back in a low voice and she smiles at him before leaning in the rest of the way and rests her head on his shoulder. He's not tense anymore.

…

* * *

 **Thank you very much for reading and please comment!**


End file.
